


For Better or Worse

by lotusk



Series: sukai fireflies au [6]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Romance, but it's more fluffy than angsty i swear!, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/pseuds/lotusk
Summary: Suho has always looked after Jongin but when he breaks his arm, he has to learn to let Jongin take care of him





	

_The idea lingers and dissipates. It lingers and dissipates and reforms in Jaehee's mind like a past lover she can't forget._

When he realized he was reading the same sentence for the fifth consecutive time, Suho snapped the book shut and flung it onto the coffee table. Jongin's solo trip to the supermarket had taken him out of their apartment forty minutes ago. It already felt like far too long for Suho, as he sat alone on the sofa with no one for company but their five year old cats Soju and Makgeolli. The cats had curled up next to him after Jongin left and their humming snores were comforting but not exactly stimulating company. 

Jongin had placed everything in grabbing distance so he wouldn't have to actually move from where he was sitting except for toilet breaks. He stared at the table and saw remote controls for the TV and stereo, a folded-up newspaper, a jug of water and two mugs (one for coffee and one for water). Before leaving the apartment, Jongin had even made some coffee for him so there was a Bodum plunger filled with his favorite Dutch coffee on the table as well. Everything was at hand but none of it appealed to Suho.

Feeling vaguely annoyed, he frowned at the stark white plaster encasing his arm. They'd left the hospital just three hours ago and it still felt surreal that he'd fractured his arm after slipping on a patch of ice in front of their apartment building. It had all happened so fast and Jongin had flung his arms out to grab his falling body but it had been too late—his fingers grabbing at air while Suho lay on the ground moaning.

He wouldn't be able to do anything with this arm for the next two weeks. _Nothing_. And he was frustrated and mad at himself. He’d only been home alone for one and half hours and he'd been pretty much trapped on the sitting room couch the whole time. Just the simple act of getting a glass of water had been a challenge because he was used to doing almost everything with his right arm. And then there was the dull ache he'd been trying really hard not to think about—an ache that was fast beginning to feel a lot more like throbbing pain. Thank God he was due for his painkillers in a couple hours.

Suho winced as the door slammed—thrown shut by the wind because Jongin hadn't been able to carefully push it shut the way he usually did. And the reason he hadn't been able to stop the door from slamming was because he was carrying two huge, and what looked like extremely heavy bags of groceries. Suho was the one who'd compiled the shopping list so he knew the bags were probably loaded with milk and juice, oranges and tomatoes, meat and vegetables, yogurt and the inevitable 10-carton pack of Binggrae banana milk. Jongin had loved Binggrae banana milk since he was a kid and continued to drink it at least three to four times a week no matter how much shit his best friend Sehun gave him about being such a child, _dude, you're 25. You should be drinking coffee at least._ But Jongin continued to drink his banana milk and to reject coffee, complaining that it was like poison.

All the things on the shopping list didn't weigh much on their own but put together, they weighed far too much for Jongin to be carrying alone. They usually shared out the bags when they made their weekly forays to the supermarket but today Jongin had decided to get everything for the week in one trip, _so we won't have to go to the supermarket for the rest of the week, hyung_. Suho should have been helping Jongin carry things like he usually did, but he couldn’t and that pissed him off. 

"Hey, hyung," Jongin called over his shoulder as he took the bags to the kitchen for storage, a slow, lazy smile lighting up his features. "How's the arm? Is it really painful?" The questions wafted out of the kitchen amidst the rustling noises of plastic bags being emptied and a series of low thuds as the fridge door was opened, then shut.

"It's not so bad," Suho lied because the aching had graduated to full-on throbbing by now. He smoothed his left palm over his thigh again and again, _up, down, up down_ , because the rhythmic strokes seemed to distract him from what was going on with his right arm. Too engrossed to pay close attention to Jongin's movements, Suho jumped a little when a strong arm curled over his collarbones and a chin rested on his shoulder. _How did you get here so fast?_ , he thought as he closed his eyes, a half smile hovering on his lips. 

“It’s not so bad, huh?” Jongin pulled Suho closer into his embrace.

“It’s. . .bearable.”

"I'm sure it hurts so bad you want to punch someone—preferably not me," Jongin teased as he nuzzled his neck.

"It's not that bad," Suho insisted.

"Of course it is. You broke it! It should hurt like a bitch but it would be typical of you to say it doesn't hurt just because you don't want me to worry and fuss. But you know I'm going to worry and fuss anyway so you might as well come clean." 

"I. . .okay maybe the pain is. . .a little bad."

" _A little_ bad?" He couldn't see Jongin's face but his words were dripping with disbelief. 

"Okay, fine. It throbs so bad I want to hit something."

"Oh hyung," Jongin walked over to the front of the sofa and shooed Soju away so he could slide onto the seat next to Suho. 

"I just need to eat something so I can take my painkillers at seven," Suho mumbled as he leaned his head against Jongin's shoulder, one of his favourite places to lay his head. 

"I bought some bulgogi from the takeout place next to Homeplus so I just have to cook some rice and feed y—"

"I'm not a baby, no one's feeding me," Suho protested stubbornly.

"No one's calling you a baby, hyung," Jongin laughed before capturing his lips in a tender, I-love-you-even-when-you're-being-silly kiss.

"I can eat on my own. I only broke one arm, Jongin, not two. Dammit." 

"Of course you can eat on your own," Jongin sighed as his palm cupped Suho's cheek, his nose rubbing his husband’s nose affectionately before his lips slid home and his tongue slipped gently into Suho's mouth. Suho could feel the tension gradually seeping out of his muscles as Jongin kissed him—his tongue exploring and hand curling around his nape, setting fire to a flurry of warm tingles across his skin. And for a few moments, all Suho could taste and feel was Jongin on his tongue and on his skin and for that brief time, he could almost forget the deep ache in his bones.

"Did you miss me?" Jongin whispered as his mouth moved down Suho's neck and trailed over his collarbones in tantalizing sweeps. 

"Always," he wrapped his arm around Jongin's back and pulled him closer, his lips finding his. Then there was a disgruntled meow as Makgeolli jumped off the couch—his tail flicking with annoyance as he stalked off in search of Soju who had fled the scene earlier.

"Sorry, Mack, but hyung is mine," Jongin's laugh vibrated against Suho's skin, making fine creases around Jongin's beautiful bitter chocolate eyes. And for just a second, the ache in Suho's heart was deeper than the one in his fractured bones. He was thankful every day that Jongin had chosen him, quiet unremarkable Suho, and hung on to him and refused to let go despite all the obstacles Suho had thrown his way. Even Suho's relocation to a different city to finish his university degree hadn't put off the determined high schooler and later, college student. Jongin had texted him every single day of the three years they were apart and had shown him in so many different ways that no one else would ever do for him. 

It was coming to eight years now since they'd lain on that field, and Jongin had confessed his feelings for him beneath the lambent glow of a hundred floating fireflies. Suho had been dazzled by Jongin's beauty all those years ago and he was still weak to it now—the generous lips, the elegant jaw and the sleepy, passionate eyes he could lose himself in forever. 

"You're so quiet," Jongin commented thoughtfully, his fingers brushing Suho's fringe off his forehead.

"Just. . .reminiscing."

"About what?"

"None of your business," Suho chuckled.

"Were you remembering the time we—"

"No!"

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"I'm sure it wasn't anything I wanted to hear," Suho glared.

"But you always want to hear the things I have to say," Jongin waggled his eyebrows.

"I can't believe you said that with a straight face, brat."

“You know it’s true, hyung,” Jongin chuckled, giving him a quick kiss, “Okay I really have to get the rice going, but there’s something else I need to do first.” Mysteriously, Jongin pulled open the drawer of their mahogany coffee table and reached inside. “Found it!”

“What are you doing with that?” Suho asked nervously as he stared at the permanent marker Jongin was holding up.

“Decorating your cast, duh.”

“You’d better not write anything cheesy, Kim Jongin!” Suho grumbled but allowed Jongin to cradle his injured arm in his careful hands.

“I’ll write something totally cheesy and you’ll totally love it,” he promised, chuckling ominously as the ink began to seep into the snowy plaster. “Now close your eyes—it’s a surprise.”

“You’re such a child.”

“Just close your eyes, hyung.” Lips grazed the shell of his ear and a palm covered his eyes; Suho knew Jongin was just distracting him but his nipples turned to hard nubs anyway.

“Okay, you can look now," Jongin said just before he kissed him, his tongue playing with the edges of his lips. Sighing, Suho leaned closer to him, deepening the kiss and just savoring the warm, sweet taste of Jongin on his tongue. 

"I can't look if you don't take your hand away, Jongin," Suho’s mouth traveled over the smooth skin of Jongin’s neck before nibbling on Jongin's earlobe. A husky moan escaped his husband's throat, making Suho feel things low in his gut.

“You’d better stop that or that rice is never getting cooked,” Jongin warned, even as his hand slid under Suho's sweater to tweak his nipples, one after another. Suho didn't even try to hide his moans as Jongin's mouth traveled up and over his neck and jaw before settling on his parted lips with a sigh—the sensations heightened somehow when he couldn't see what Jongin was doing to him.

"I love you, hyung," Jongin whispered against his skin and Suho whispered back, _I love you too, Jonginnie. I love you so much_. And then Jongin was hugging him gently, careful to avoid touching Suho's injured arm. 

“I still can’t see, you dork,” Suho chuckled and then Jongin’s hand was gone and he was looking down at the cast. Written across it in black Sharpie, were the words: "World's sexiest marine biologist". 

"I can't believe you did that! Everyone at work is gonna be giving me shit about this for the next three years! Damn it, Jongin!" 

“But it’s not cheesy,” he laughed.

“DAMN YOU!”

“You love it, hyung. Don’t lie,” he grinned and Suho was struck again by how beautiful he was with his healthy golden skin and eyes of bitter chocolate.

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Not to mention untrue.”

“You love it, shhh,” Jongin distracted him with more kisses, “and I meant every single word.”

“Brat,” Suho said as he lost himself in Jongin’s gentle, sensual touches. . .

* * *

"So what were you reminiscing about earlier?" Jongin asked, his fingertips smoothing the skin on the back of Suho’s hand.

"I told you that was none of your business," 

"Fine, I'll leave you to your secrets," Jongin gave an exaggerated sigh, "but only because I have to cook the rice." A lingering hug and then Jongin was gone, leaving Suho sitting on the couch feeling bereft and grumpy. And achey—both in his broken arm and his balls. 

_Damn the boy_.


End file.
